


Hot Byleth Summer (Attire)

by rydia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, First Time, Getting Together, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydia/pseuds/rydia
Summary: When she returns, Byleth has nothing but the Sword of the Creator and the clothes on her back. And those clothes are a little grotty after five years.The Golden Deer find her a new outfit, which is why Byleth is running around in the old summer uniform they wore when they were students, and why Claude is slowly losing his mind.[A late entry for the #ClaudelethNSFW week, combining two prompts: day 1) "grasp my..." and day 4) "you've become quite expressive, haven't you."]
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 29
Kudos: 572





	Hot Byleth Summer (Attire)

After a long five years, Byleth has returned. It's something Claude had never doubted – that she'd come back – yet it still changes everything when she does. And while he knows better than to place a person up on a pedestal, he can’t help but think she is a light at the end of the dark tunnel that has been the last five years. Byleth, his dear friend, who he’s missed so much and trusted to come back to him – _him_ , Claude von Riegan. The very embodiment of distrust, who had grown up thinking he’d never have such conviction in anyone aside from himself.

His Teach is back.

So, no, despite the odds, Claude is not surprised to see Byleth at the top of the goddess tower on the night they’d promised to meet again. But there is one thing he’s surprised about, and that is the fact that she looks totally unchanged. In fact, she looks like she’d been fighting in the battle for Garreg Mach only a few hours ago, and not five years past. She’s even wearing the exact same outfit, although she looks bedraggled. Actually, Claude thinks as he watches her cut down bandits with the same precision and skill she always had, bedraggled is a too diplomatic way of putting it.

Teach looks a mess. Her clothes are filthy and sodden – because apparently she’d washed up from a _river_. There are rips and tears all over. She’s covered with mud, blood, and who knows what else. Even her hair is filthy.

As she cuts through the remaining bandits, who are shrinking from her in fear, Claude thinks fondly that she looks like a demon that’s crawled out of the earth to terrorise them.

The Muddy Demon sounds less intimidating than the Ashen Demon, though.

.

After they clear out the bandits and reunite with the rest of the Golden Deer, there’s still no time to rest. The monastery has to be made inhabitable again, and Teach desperately needs a bath and something to wear.

It’s Leonie who finds the stash of old clothes – some maid and student uniforms – including the summer attire. They'd all had their summer wear given to them on arriving at the monastery as students as an option in warmer weather. Claude had never worn it, because as far as he was concerned, Fódlan was always cold. He'd wanted heavier clothes, not lighter.

But it's that uniform that Leonie gives to Byleth. Claude isn’t sure whether to thank her or curse her, but he knows this – he would remember the first time he saw Teach in the summer uniform very vividly. For the rest of his life.

.

They’ve taken the old Cardinal’s Room as their War Room. When Claude arrives, Teach is already there, sitting at the long table. He breezes in a with a smile, greeting everyone, and they get down to business. Troops and requisitions and allies and enemy movements… it drags on, all of it important and necessary and requiring his attention, but it’s still a relief to all when they break for food.

People drift out, talking among themselves – Seteth and a few of the senior knights, recently returned. Lorenz goes, looking distracted. The room empties. Hilda flits over to Teach’s side, bracing herself against the table as she chats animatedly about something.

Claude shuffles his own papers, making a mental note of what he needs to get done today, before glancing up at the two women further down the table.

And then Teach stands up. And all of Claude’s blood heads south.

It’s not like he’s never seen the summer uniform before. It’s not like he’s never _appreciated_ how the summer uniform looks before, even if he never wore it himself. He most certainly has, because whoever designed those uniforms certainly didn’t consider the effect it might have on horny teenagers – especially the girls one, with the short skit and tight bodice.

On Teach, it’s borderline obscene, at least to Claude. It’s every fantasy he knows he shouldn’t let himself indulge in come to life.

The white shirt of the uniform is buttoned high. Everything is appropriately covered. But the tight fit amplifies Teach’s… generous assets, and the tight bodice only emphasises it further.

And then there’s the skirt, riding high on her thighs, exposing her long, creamy legs, no longer covered with tights. Her boots go to her knees, and then there’s all that glorious skin, all the way up…

Claude’s eyes linger there, on her thighs, occasionally drifting upward to admire the curve of her hip, as he wonders what it would feel like to slide his hands over her skin. Starting from her knee. No, the back of her knee, as he hooks it around his own hip and slides his hand upwards, perhaps taking a detour to the crease at the top of her legs where the curve of her ass began…

“Claude!” Hilda’s voice snaps him out of his wandering thoughts. _Dangerous_ thoughts that he really shouldn’t be indulging in. Not yet.

He turns his gaze to Hilda, automatically turning his lips up in a smile as he wrenches his mind back in an attempt to recall just what the two of them had been discussing before he’d lost his damn mind at the sight of some legs.

Hilda is looking at him shrewdly. Too shrewdly. She covers it up quickly with a saccharine smile of her own, and a tilt of her head, but Claude knows her well. She’s become a close friend and confidant over the last five years, so much so that he’s still a little surprised at how much he trusts her. But even then, he’s never confided in how he feels about Teach to her. Those are thoughts he’ll share with the woman in question or not at all. He knows Hilda has her suspicions, though, because she's far sharper than people give her credit for.

“Doesn’t the Professor look nice?” Hilda asks, all peaches and cream and innocence to anyone that doesn’t know her better.

Claude falls back into his well practiced smile. “Teach always looks good,” he replies, with easy charm. 

He lets his gaze fall over Byleth again, who’s looking at him with an expression he can’t read. It’s not blank, but it’s something Claude can’t quite decipher. He thinks he might be the person that knows her best, but in some ways she remains a puzzle to him.

“Still.” Hilda can’t hide the mischievousness note in her voice. “Look at what that big bulky coat was hiding!” She gestures vaguely at Byleth, who turns to Hilda, a slight crease forming between her brows.

“What was wrong with it?” 

“Oh, nothing, nothing!” Hilda replies breezily. “I just think Claude might prefer these clothes, that’s all.”

Claude can feel his smile becoming strained. _Dammit, Hilda._

Byleth blinks. “I don’t see why Claude would have any preference. It’s hardly important.” She turns away. “I have to go, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

With that, she leaves the room at her usual brisk pace, and Claude has to bite back a groan at the sight. The uniform looks just as good from the back as it does from the front.

Hilda theatrically clears her throat. “For a guy that’s so secretive, I’m surprised you’re so obvious about your ogling.”

“I’m not–“ Claude pauses. He _is_. “It was just a surprise to see her wearing one of the old uniforms, that’s all.”

“Mmmhmm. She does look great in it, doesn’t she?”

“Careful now, Hilda. We wouldn’t want Marianne to overhear what you’re saying.”

She levels him with an unimpressed look. “I said she looks great. I wasn’t the one panting like a creepy old lecher.”

He definitely had not been panting, but Claude knows he’ll just look overly defensive if he says that. Instead he asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, “What other clothes did you find for her?”

“Oh.” Hilda taps her chin as if deep in thought. “There really wasn’t much, and even less that would fit the Professor, so she just took a few sets of the summer clothes, at least until the merchants come back and she can buy something else. Alois says there should be some armour he can find for her to wear in battle – the uniform is hardly suitable. Can you imagine?”

 _Yes_ , Claude can. Not so much the battle part, but he knows how Teach moves, how she bends and twists with a beautiful and dangerous grace, and wouldn’t that be a sight to behold in that short, tight…

He cuts off his thoughts. Hilda’s smug expression is telling him that she knows exactly what he’s thinking, and Claude knows he needs to get himself under control. This is hardly the time and Teach is his friend. His first friend, his best friend. And she’s just come back – he can see her still getting used to the differences in them all. He watches her as she watches them and sees the tiny downward pull of her lips, enough to let him know that she’s sad about the five years that she’s missed.

Claude’s not going to make it worse for her.

.

So he keeps better control of himself. It’s not that difficult for him, at least not at first. He’s maintained one charade or another for most of his life. Now that he’s over the initial surprise to seeing Teach like that, he’s able to keep his thoughts better hidden. He can see Hilda watching him like a hawk, obviously hoping to find another opportunity to tease him, but he’s careful to give her nothing. He treats Teach as he did before – as his friend, and it’s only in the privacy of his room under the darkness of night does he let his mind and hands wander and allow himself the relief from the building frustration.

It’s a startling realisation for Claude to know that he hasn’t touched himself this much since he’d been a student. In truth, he feels a little guilty about it, because he’s getting himself off to Teach, but he doesn’t let it affect their friendship and it’s not like she’s ever going to find out about it.

.

Byleth is training with Leonie. Wearing the summer uniform. It’s even better than Claude had imagined. She’s so graceful. Powerful and deadly, even just in training.

Beside Claude, Lorenz is talking. About something he should probably listen to. But only probably, because it’s Lorenz.

Claude can’t look away as Byleth spins and parries before launching an attack on Leonie, forcing her to yield. Her chest heaves with exertion, and after they finish, he can see her eyes are brighter than they've been in a while as she talks with Leonie. As Byleth's hand brushes her hair behind her ears, Claude can't help but let his eyes travel down again.

“Are you aware that you’re staring at the Professor?” Lorenz asks loudly.

“Of course I am,” Claude answers smoothly, hoping Teach hasn’t heard and ignoring the sudden hammering of his heart at Lorenz's words. Thankfully, neither of the woman are paying them any attention. “We can still learn from watching her in training.”

“Hm. Then perhaps you should stare at her in a less libidinous way, don’t you think?”

 _Libidinous_ , Claude thinks. Is Lorenz for real? Finally dragging his eyes away from Byleth, he turns to give Lorenz an incredulous look. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Lorenz draws himself up, offended. “I beg your pardon, but in my search for a suitable bride, I was never so wanton. It is inappropriate to look at a woman so lewdly.”

“Oh no, you just hound them even after they’ve turned you down. That’s so much better.”

Lorenz flushes. “That was five years ago, Claude! I learned the error of my ways and so should you. It is appalling to think the head of the Alliance is so uncouth.”

Despite being annoyed and wanting to bite back again, Claude knows he needs to smooth this over or risk undoing the progress he’s made with Lorenz over the past five years. They have become friends, of sorts, even if they still needle each other.

But he doesn’t get a chance as Leonie interrupts their conversation. She’s sauntered over to them, swigging from a water flask. “What has Claude done now?”

“Oh, just the usual.” Claude affects a casual stance. “I’m not living up to the high standard of nobility as set by Lorenz.”

Lorenz makes a noise of disgust. “Do not make light of it, Claude. It was inappropriate.”

“Oh?” Leonie asks, with a sly look. “Was he staring at the Professor again?” She raises an eyebrow at Claude. “You’re really obvious, you know.”

“Is everything all right?” Byleth calls over to them from the weapons rack, and they all fall silent, shooting furtive looks at each other. Claude at least knows none of them will say this to Teach’s face. They might enjoy watching him squirm, but they respect Byleth too much to do that to her. Shame they don't feel the same way about him.

Claude frowns at that thought. He should probably do more respecting of Teach himself. He clearly hasn’t been as well behaved as he should have been.

“Everything’s fine,” he replies loudly. “You know how Lorenz is.”

Byleth pauses, and even from across the training grounds, all of them can tell she’s radiating her _I think you’re full of shit, but I’m not going to call you out on it… yet_ energy. All she replies with is, “I know how you are, too, Claude.”

Lorenz looks at him triumphantly, while Leonie hides a smile.

When Byleth leaves, Claude forces himself not to look.

.

He behaves better. He stops staring like a pitiful maiden at Byleth, and manages to avoid more teasing from the other Golden Deer. Only Hilda still makes comments, but Claude gives her nothing to work with.

The merchants return to Garreg Mach and Byleth gets more clothes, although she still occasionally wears the summer attire. Regardless, Claude only lets himself dwell on it when it's late at night and he knows he won't be disturbed.

He and Byleth work closely together every day. They march into battle at the head of their army, and the tide of the war slowly begins to tip in their favour. Each new month might bring struggle and death, but they can win this. They will win this. Because of her.

"My friend," he calls Byleth, but she's so much more than that, especially to him.

When the war is over, he'll tell her.

.

It’s late one evening when Claude hears the light tapping on his door. Too late for visitors, he thinks. The monastery should be asleep, with only the guards awake. Silently, he stands from his desk, fingering the dagger concealed at his waist. Always good to be ready.

But when he opens the door, it’s just Byleth, and he relaxes immediately, although he's curious to know why she's here. She's never come to his room before.

“Hey Teach,” he greets her, leaning against the door frame. “What brings you here so late?” _Or at all_ , he wonders.

Byleth blinks, her eyes focused on his chest. Slowly she draws them up to meet his gaze. Something about the way she’s looking at him makes Claude’s stomach flutter. “I’m looking for a map that I believe you have.”

“Well,” Claude replies as he wonders about the way she’s looking at him. “You’ve come to the right place.” He steps back and gestures for her to enter the room, glancing down at himself. He’s wearing light pants and a loose shirt – he’ll be at his desk working most of the night, and is dressed for comfort. But the shirt is unbuttoned more than he’d realised and he briefly wonders if Byleth is looking at him the way he looks at her. She's used to seeing him in far more clothing than this.

He files it away to consider later. Too dangerous to dwell on that while she’s in the small confines of his room late at night, looking rumpled and smelling like flowers. It’s already edging too close into the territories of his fantasies.

Byleth steps in, and sets down the candle she’d been carrying on his desk. She takes in his messy room – books are piled into each corner and are strewn across his bed. Maps and papers are spread out across his desk and the floor. One shelf is covered with vials and herbs and everything Claude needs for mixing his poisons.

But it’s the books Byleth is interested in. “Well, now I know why the library seems empty,” she murmurs.

Claude smiles. “I actually think that’s because Seteth confiscated anything he deemed problematic. Everything here is, boringly enough, church approved. Entirely unhelpful and incredibly dull. Well, except for one book.”

She glances at him, looking intrigued.

Stepping towards his bed, Claude leans over and plucks the book he knows is sitting snug between the mattress and the wall. Wordlessly he hands it to Byleth, answering her unspoken question.

Her breath catches she takes it, hand ghosting over the cover reverently. “I thought it had been lost,” she whispered.

She looks up at Claude, and his own breath catches at her wide-eyed expression. He clears his throat and makes a valiant effort to keep his voice steady as he says, “I should have returned this to you sooner, but... I promised I’d keep it safe for you.”

And he had. For five long years he’d kept her father’s journal safe, looking forward to the time when he’d be able to return it to her.

“Thank you.” Byleth is still staring up at him as she takes a step closer to him. She’s still dressed in the summer uniform, but two buttons of the shirt have been undone, showing the soft skin of her throat. Her forearms are bare – the sleeves of the shirt have been rolled up. She’s still wearing her knee high boots, and Claude’s fingers twitch because he wants nothing more than to pull her to him, have her under him as he grasps those thighs and hikes them around him.

He takes a deep breath, trying his best to push away his lustful thoughts. What is _wrong_ with him? “You’re welcome, Teach.” His voice is low, and he clears his throat again.

Byleth’s gaze drifts down to the journal again. Her voice wavers slightly when she speaks. “It’s still so recent, for me.”

Claude swallows and lifts a hand hesitantly to rest on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you lost him, my friend.”

When she looks up at him again, her expression makes him want to draw her to him. To comfort, not anything else. But his own feelings and thoughts make him feel awkward – in truth, not something Claude is used to feeling – and worried about making her feel uncomfortable. So he maintains his distance.

To his surprise a small smile crosses her face. “Thank you, Claude.”

He lets his hand drop, though he can still feel the warmth of her on his palm. “It must be strange for you to so suddenly see your little Deer all grown up.”

The smile becomes stained. “I suppose.” Byleth glances away, and a blush crosses her face. “You’ve all gotten…” She looks at Claude’s face again, before letting her gaze drift behind him. “Taller,” she finishes.

Claude’s heart is racing, and he can’t help his next words. “Is that all? Not more handsome?”

Byleth still has that blush on her face, but she seems to lose whatever bashfulness she’d had a moment ago, looking at Claude with a doleful expression. “You were always handsome and you know it. Don’t fish.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies with a grin. “I’m terrible at fishing. You’re much better.”

“Claude.” There’s a note of mock exasperation in her voice.

“So you think I’m handsome?”

“ _Claude_. You sound like Sylvain.”

“Nah, if I were Sylvain I’d be calling you a beautiful rose, waiting to picked.”

“Hm.” Byleth pauses. “I think that sounds more like Lorenz.” There’s a smile playing on her lips, which relieves Claude, still concerned that he was pushing an invisible boundary even while he _wants_ to push it, to see if he’s reading this right, to know that he’s not the only one who feels this – _this_ , between them.

“I think you’re right,” he murmurs, unable to tear his eyes away from her face.

“You, um,” and that makes Claude start in surprise because Byleth, while she may not be the most talkative of people, has never been someone who stumbled over what words she did speak. “You do, though.”

“I do… what?”

“Look very handsome.” She says it earnestly even as her blush deepens.

“And you’re beautiful.” He did not mean to say that. But the words stumble out, brought on by her close proximity in this small, dim room. It’s like the world outside has ceased to exist, and so has his filter. She could ask him anything right now and he’d reply truthfully.

Byleth jerks away. “Now you really sound like Sylvain,” she mutters and then casts her eyes downwards. “It doesn’t matter – I need the maps of Adrestia. We need to–“

Claude reaches out to wrap a hand around her wrist, feeling her pulse jump under his touch. He doesn’t know if this is a good idea, but he can’t stand the thought that she might think he isn’t being genuine. “Byleth, I mean it.”

She stills, looking at him again and Claude feels like he’s on a precipice; he wonders if she feels the same. Energy crackles between them.

“Claude,” she whispers and pauses briefly, an agonising second for him. “Will you kiss me?”

“ _Yes_.” The word spills out before he can even think about it, and any of the sensible thoughts he’d had about waiting for the war to end before acting on his feelings flee.

But despite his quick response, Claude doesn’t hurry his actions. He steps closer, taking Jeralt's journal out of her hands and placing it on his desk before returning to her. Once again he gently touches her wrist, but this time he slides his hand slowly up her arm, across her shoulder, over her neck, to cup her warm cheek. The whole time she stares up at him, eyes wide, mouth parted in invitation.

She stretches up as he leans down, and their lips brush together softly. But there’s nothing soft about the feelings it stirs in Claude, this simple touch, more exhilarating than his first flight on a wyvern.

He starts slightly at the unexpected feel of her hands against the back of his neck, and Byleth pauses.

Drawing back slightly, she asks, “Is this okay?”

“Ah,” he replies, slightly embarrassed. “Would you understand if I said I wasn’t used to being touched like that?” Because who could he trust to let himself be so intimate with? Who else could he let softly brush their fingers over his neck and know it’s only for the simple joy of touching him; there is no danger, no scheme, there’s just Byleth _wanting_ to touch him.

But Byleth nods, accepting his answer with no question, and her hands slide down from his neck, achingly slowly, to rest on his shoulders. “I understand that,” she says quietly. And then, with a little uncertainty, “Do you want to stop?”

She drops her hands from him, but Claude grasps them in his own, pressing them back against his chest. She must be able to feel the thundering of his heart underneath her palms. “No, I don’t want to stop. Teach, I can’t lie to you. I’ve thought about this too often to want to stop, but I told myself to wait until the war was over.”

Byleth’s eyes widen at his admission.

“And I want you to know,” he continues, forcing out the words despite the uncomfortable prickle of vulnerability running up his back, “that I don’t want _this_ –“ he squeezes her hands gently “– just for one night.”

“Good,” she answers simply, “because I don’t want that either.” She takes a small step closer to him and tilts her head up.

Claude doesn’t ignore the clear invitation, dipping his own head back down to kiss her again, relishing the soft feel of her lips against his. Byleth keeps her hands on his chest, palms spread flat over him, while Claude draws her closer to him, gently grabbing her waist and pulling her flush against him. Then Byleth moves her hands, sliding them up again, this time into his hair, and the pleasant feel of it makes Claude groan against her mouth.

See, this is why he’d wanted to wait until the war is over before acting on any feelings, because now the only thing he’s going to be able to think about is how good this feels and the only thing he’s going to want to do is… well, this.

Byleth takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, arching backwards as Claude presses closer, their tongues sliding together as they both grow bolder, exploring each other with gentle touches, neither of them pushing too far as hands slid up and down backs and shoulders, and into hair and softly across cheeks. But the whole time Claude’s heart is racing and while he knows that Byleth’s heart doesn’t beat, he can’t help but think that if it did it would be racing too.

When Byleth pulls away from him, panting and clutching at his shoulders, Claude continues kissing her, moving to her neck, enjoying the softness of her skin. He drags his teeth against her, making her groan, but when her hands rake down his back and grab at his ass, pulling him even closer against her, Claude can’t help but yelp.

“Sorry,” Byleth says, breathless, although she doesn’t remove her hands. Instead her grip tightens. “It’s just that I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Claude huffs out a laugh, despite himself. She must be able to feel how hard he is against her, with his erection pressed against her stomach. But judging by the smile on her face, Byleth hardly seems to mind. “You’ve… wanted to grab my ass?”

“Yes,” she admits, all traces of shyness seemingly gone now that she knows they’re on the same page. “Your usual clothes are very puffy. I couldn’t tell. But then I saw you training with Ignatz in pants like these.”

“Like…” He jerks against her again as she continues to palm his ass like she’s trying to memorise it through touch. “Like these?”

“Yes,” she says again, voice hoarse. Her lips seek out his throat, lightly kissing and biting and all Claude can do is happily hold onto her hips and let her do as she likes, amazed at how quickly he's getting used to her touch. She can do this forever, as far as he’s concerned. “You looked so good,” she murmurs against his skin. “Hilda accused me of staring.”

That makes Claude laugh properly as he remembers all the time Hilda had said the exact same thing to _him_. “Words I’m familiar with, from her,” he says, drawing back to look her in the eye. Her lips are red and full from their kissing and her eyes are bright in a way he’s never seen before.

Because of him.

“Oh?”

“You have _no idea_ what seeing you in this uniform does to me,” he says, almost frantically, and he decides he’s going to do what he’s wanted to ever since he’d first seen Byleth in the summer outfit, all those months ago. Starting with his hands on her neck, he slowly moves them down over her breasts – earning a shiver from Byleth, who arches into his touch – before moving them out to her waist and smoothing them down over the flare of her hips, letting his hands spread out for a moment, fingers brushing over the top of her ass.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Byleth asks, a hint of amusement in her voice, but when Claude glances at her face he can see she’s just as into this as he is.

So he just smiles at her, an affection and open smile that lights up his face, and responds, “I really am,” before reaching down to grab her thighs and picking her up. It’s Byleth’s turn to yelp in surprise, loud enough to make Claude worry about what the people in the neighbouring rooms might be hearing, but then he remembers that it’s just Lorenz, so who cares. Regardless, it’s a thought that’s soon chased away by the satisfying feeling of her strong thighs around his waist. Byleth anchors herself, holding on tight to his shoulders.

Claude can’t see how his hands are sinking into the creamy flesh of Byleth’s thighs, but he can feel it, just as he can feel her flexing around him.

Byleth takes advantage of having her face level with Claude’s and leans in to kiss him again, deep, open mouthed kisses that leave Claude’s knees shaking. She's moving restlessly against him, trying to find some friction, but while this position is good for kissing, she’s sitting too high around his waist for either of them to find much of that, so Claude takes a few unsteady steps over to the bed, kneeling on it and lowering Byleth to the mattress, careful not to drop her on a pile of books, never once letting go of her. She immediately readjusts herself against him so that his cock is pressing against her centre, and her ankles lock together behind him.

“Fu–“ Claude exhales sharply at the sensation, eyes falling shut as he presses his face into her neck, breathing harshly as he meets her thrust for thrust. In his ears, all he can hear are Byleth’s quiet moans, breathless and needy, and he’s close. He’s _too_ close, considering they haven’t even managed to remove any items of clothing. She’s even still wearing her boots.

Reluctantly, he peels himself back. He doesn’t get too far, considering Byleth still has her legs locked around him, keeping him trapped. Not that he minds.

The already short skirt she's wearing has ridden up high around her waist, letting Claude see a flash of her smalls. Byleth’s hands are fisting into the sheets by her side as she stares up at him, chest heaving, and her legs loosen around him, falling to his sides. Claude shuffles backwards slightly and grabs one of her calfs, raising her leg up so he can slide off the boot, and then her sock. Byleth wiggles her toes at him – _cute_ , Claude thinks – and then rests her leg against his shoulder as he does the same to the other boot.

Legs bare, Byleth simply watches him with hooded eyes, obviously content to let him slowly peel her out of her clothes and Claude isn’t one to let an advantage go to waste. So he slowly, slowly, slides a hand up each of her legs, starting at her ankles, up over her calves and to her thighs. Her skin is like silk, except for the scars, which he can feel under his finger tips, echos of endless battles painted on her body. Those scars, and the hard muscle he can feel under the soft skin, tell the story of this woman, this woman he loves.

Claude leans forward to kiss her, pouring his feelings into it, and closes his eyes as Byleth’s legs fall lazily around him again. Eagerly she kisses him back, her hands once more playing in his hair, and Claude has to wonder at just how dishevelled he must look. Resting his weight on one hand, he fumbles around her bodice, mouth going lax against hers as he searches for a clasp or button or _something_ to open it and pull it off her.

Byleth laughs softly and he pulls back, resting on his heels as he observes her.

“I could just keep it on,” she says, somewhat mischievously.

Claude blinks, imagining it. Byleth on top of him, her skirt riding high as she rides _him_ …

He coughs, resisting the urge to palm his cock at the mere thought of it. “Wow, there’s a picture. I _would_ like that, but… some other time?” He hesitates before saying his next words, still learning to be vulnerable. “I’d like to feel you.” It might have sounded lewd in another context but Byleth appears to understand his meaning. Her face softens and she rises up onto her knees to press a soft kiss against his mouth.

“I’d like that too.” Her fingers play with the ends of his shirt, twisting them slightly. “May I take this off?”

Claude obligingly raises his hands and Byleth whips the shirt off so quickly, he can’t help but laugh. Immediately she sets about exploring the skin she’s uncovered, hands bushing over his nipples and down his stomach as she leans forward to press a kiss against the base of his throat.

He exhales shakily at the feel of her calloused fingers as they explore him thoroughly, and then groans as her mouth moves down and her tongue swipes across a nipple. Her hands also keep meandering south, fingers teasing the skin under the edge of his pants.

With a last gentle bite to his nipple, she lifts her head. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” he gasps, capturing her mouth with his own again. His hands smooth over her stomach, brushing the tassels on the uniform. Against her lips, he asks, “Take this off?”

He feels Byleth’s smile as she keeps kissing him, her hands moving behind her back and it isn’t long before he feels the fabric under his own hands go lax. She rises up to shimmy the bodice over her hips, Claude helping her, but mostly just taking the opportunity to touch her skin again. Byleth also takes the time to unbutton her shirt and discard that too, quickly followed by her breastband leaving her clad only in her smalls.

Claude swallows heavily, resisting the urge to plant his face between Byleth's breasts and live there. Instead he encourages her to lie back down on the bed and does what she’d done to him a moment ago. He presses gentle kisses to her neck as his hands explore, enjoying the softness of her breasts in his hands, the hard peaks of her nipples, and the quiet, breathless moans his touch is inspiring. Once again her hands clutch at his hair, pressing her closer to him, and when Claude moves his mouth to her breast, licking and sucking at her nipple, Byleth cries out, so loud that it surprises Claude. Her hands leave his hair and run down his back so she can push down his pants.

“Off,” she exclaims, getting them down far enough so she can catch the fabric in her feet and pull them completely off.

Claude can’t help but laugh at her eagerness, although he's bit relieved that it seems to mirror his own. He keeps moving down her body, swirling his tongue in her bellybutton, and peeks up at Byleth’s face when he reaches the edge of her smalls, fingers playing with the fabric.

“ _Off_ , Claude,” she demands, tilting her hips up at him.

Grinning, he pulls them down her body and tosses them away, before turning his attention back to her, kissing his way back up her legs to her centre where she’s already wet. Claude pauses at her inner thigh, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin as his hands hold her legs open. She shudders as his breath washes over her and she’s so close Claude can almost taste her at the back of his tongue.

So he has to taste her right at the source, to see if it’s as good as he expects it to be. Letting go of one of her legs, he slides a finger through her wetness, spreading her open before licking from her entrance up to her clit, sucking on it when he finds it, savouring her taste and her reactions – Byleth's legs are shaking and her hips press upwards into his face, seeking more. His name spills low and long from her lips, the most musical it’s ever sounded.

He’s surprised when Byleth works her hand into his hair again, tugging so that he looks up at her. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as she sucks in rapid breaths, and her eyes are dark with desire. “I want you inside me, Claude.”

The straightforward and direct statement makes Claude freeze, mouth still pressed against her, her thighs still around his head. It probably does so because all the blood in his body must now be in his cock, which is pressed into the bed already weeping for attention, and his brain is no longer working correctly.

But it doesn’t take him long to recover, mouth curving into a smile as he gathers his wits and moves up her body. Byleth’s hands cradle his face, brushing a wayward strand of hair out of his eyes, and she gives him the biggest smile he’s ever seen from her. His heart stutters and he can’t help but return the smile in kind.

“You’ve become quite expressive,” he says, settling his hips between her legs.

Byleth’s eyes flutter as his cock slides against her, teasing. After letting out a shaky exhale, she opens her eyes again. “That’s thanks to you,” she murmurs.

“Oh?” Claude’s expression turns a little smug.

Her eyebrow raises slightly, and her attempt at a stern look falls flat because she arches against him at the same time. “And the rest of the Golden Deer, of course.”

“Of course,” he replies, leaning down to brush a kiss against her warm cheek. He brings his lips to her ear. “But mostly me, it’s okay to admit it.”

He feels her laugh under him, and she turns her head to look into his eyes. Her thumb strokes across his cheek and he can't help but lean into her touch.

“Maybe it’s because I love you,” she whispers.

Claude stills. “You do?” Something breaks in him at her words, but not at all in a bad way. Perhaps it’s that last brick in the wall he’d built up to defend himself in a world that always seemed to be against him – be it Fódlan or Almyra. He’d never expected someone to calmly take a hammer to it like Teach has and, what’s more, for him to welcome it.

Claude is not religious, but in this moment, he feels blessed by the goddess herself. Perhaps, considering who Byleth is, he _is_.

Her brow furrows and when she replies, it’s clear Byleth thinks the answer should be obvious. “Of course I do.”

“Well.” There’s a slight tremor in Claude’s voice. “That’s good, because I love you, too.”

Byleth’s face splits into that wide smile again, one he hopes to see often.

“That is good,” she says as she reaches between them, grasping Claude’s cock as she lines him up, and Claude needs no further invitation. He pushes into her, slowly, so slowly, savouring the wet heat enveloping him. Byleth wraps her legs around him again, heels resting against his ass.

She arches up as he bottoms out, mouth open, eyes closed, with one her hands scrabbling for purchase against his back, while the other grips his bicep tightly. Claude stills, resisting the almost overwhelming desire to move, watching her face.

“You feel…” she breaths out and shifts against him, “so good.”

Claude wants to say the feeling is mutual but for once in his life he can’t get any words out, too focused on a thousand other sensations. He already feels breathless. When Byleth opens her eyes again, he starts moving, still slowly, knowing he’s going to lose control soon so he may as well draw this out a bit longer for both of them.

Byleth’s nails dig into his skin as he begins to speed up, meeting each of his thrusts, and Claude's face drops into her neck as he moans lowly. She feels incredible, far better than any of the fantasties his imagination cooked up. Their bodies are slicked in sweat, moving in tandem, soon falling into a satisfying rhythm for both of them.

Claude quickly learns what Byleth likes, taking note of each moan, each catch of her breath, each flutter of her around his cock, each tight press of her nails in his skin. And when he lifts his face from her neck, he can see she’s doing the same, watching him through lidded eyes, angling herself against him in response to his reactions.

She lets go of his arm to brush his now messy hair away from his face and leaves her hand against the back of his head, clutching tight. It sends pinpricks of pleasure just edging on pain through Claude, and he groans, feeling a tightening in his belly as his climax builds. Byleth is clenching around him, her movements becoming more desperate, so he suspects she’s close too. She’s so _wet_ that the noise of their fucking seems obscenely loud in the small room, and Claude is too far gone to even think about what any of his neighbours might be thinking.

Moving on instinct, seeking his release, he reaches down to haul one of Byleth’s legs over his shoulder. The change in angle makes her cry out, louder than before and Claude stills, pressing a kiss to the leg by his head, watching her carefully.

“Don’t stop,” she hisses, tightening around him.

Claude grins, although Byleth, with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, doesn’t see it. He duly resumes his movements, faster, working them both up quickly. The new angle feels incredible, and it’s not long before Byleth is shuddering and spasming around him. She cries out his name as she comes, and Claude tightens his hold on her leg as he continues to fuck her, movements becoming sloppy and rougher as his own peak approaches.

It’s a powerful orgasm when it comes, with Byleth still clenching around his cock, leaving him moaning into her skin, the world whiting out and leaving only pleasure. He rocks into her, riding out the waves and then the aftershocks, Byleth’s hand stroking through his hair the whole time.

He feels like he’s melted into a puddle, but Claude is aware that he’s resting his weight on Byleth, so he rolls to the side, his cock slipping from her at the same time. As he does so, Byleth turns to face him, her hand still running through his hair. Claude takes the opportunity to touch her too, propping himself up on one elbow as his other hand traces down her body, from her shoulder to the tantalising curve of her hip, over smooth skin and hard muscle and raised scars.

They both lie there for a time in silence as they catch their breath, watching each other and touching simply because they _can_ , until Byleth twists her upper half away from him, groping along the ground with her hand. Claude is about to ask what she’s looking for when she turns back and starts using whatever she’s picked up to wipe herself off with.

“Is that your shirt?”

“I think so,” she replies calmly, clearly not bothered.

Claude swallows at the sight of her cleaning his own spend from inside her legs with the uniform he’d fantasied so much about. There’d be something poetic about it if it weren’t so… debauched.

“What are you going to wear out of here in the morning?” He asks with interest.

Byleth tosses the shirt away when she’s done and raises a shoulder at Claude. “Your shirt.”

He laughs and wraps an arm around her drawing her back to him. Byleth hums in contentment as she drapes a leg over his hip, and Claude greedily slides his hand down to her thigh to hike it higher.

And then his brain catches up to his actions and he freezes.

“What is it?” Byleth asks, immediately picking up the change.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked before I, ah, came inside you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll talk to Manuela in the morning. She has a good supply of herbs.” Byleth seems unconcerned, remarkably blasé about the consequences of their actions, especially considering they’re at war. But this is Byleth. And Manuela – well, Manuela knows what she’s doing. There had never been any surprise babies while he’d been a student and Claude knows very well that a lot of his fellow students were free and easy with their affections.

“Anyway,” Byleth continues, stretching slightly and snuggling closer to him, “I wanted you to. It felt good.”

 _That’s an understatement_ , Claude thinks, and he’s just about to say it when he yawns instead, tiredness hitting him like a Thoron spell.

“Goodnight, Claude,” Byleth whispers, and it’s all Claude can do to respond in kind and draw a blanket around them before he dozes off. Byleth is tucked against him, and he's never been more comfortable than this in his life.

.

A movement beside him makes him wake with a start, hand automatically searching for the weapon under his pillow.

It takes him a second to remember.

“It’s just me, Claude,” Byleth murmurs, her lips against his cheek.

He opens his eyes, immediately realising it’s early in the morning, with dawn just about to break. Byleth sits up, looking at him in concern.

“Sorry,” he rasps, voice heavy with sleep. “I’m not used to sharing a bed.” His hand reaches for hers, tangling their fingers together.

“That’s alright,” she says solemnly and he knows by her face that she gets it. He has no doubt she sleeps with a weapon under her pillow, too.

Claude drags his other hand across his face and brushes his hair out of his eyes. Sitting up, he regards Byleth. “I could get used to it, though,” he says, voice low.

Her mouth twitches, a small smile threatening. “Same.” She glances briefly at the window. “I have to go. Early start.”

He frowns. “We don’t have a meeting until this afternoon.”

She smiles fully at that and responds teasingly, “Duke Riegan doesn’t. Some of us aren’t so fortunate.”

But Claude’s frown only deepens. He wants to tell her to stay with him and get back into bed. But he can’t. They all have their roles to fill, and Byleth’s is one of the most important. He’s already been selfish about using her to further his dreams, he doesn’t want to be selfish in this too.

No, actually, he _does_ want to be selfish.

Byleth seems to guess his thoughts. “We won’t be at war forever.”

“I know. And I know we’ll win it.” He pauses. “I meant everything I said last night. I’d had originally planned to wait until after the war was over to tell you how I felt because, well, because we have too many other things right now that require our focus. It didn't feel right to do it before we'd found peace."

She asks her next question carefully. "Do you regret it?"

"Never," he answers immediately, leaving no room for doubt. " _Now_ , I wouldn't change anything."

She nods, playing with his fingers. “Good. Neither would I. For now we’ll just have to work hard to achieve our dreams. It’ll be worth it.”

He smiles at that, because it sounds similar to how she’d speak when she was a Professor, trying to motivate Hilda or encourage Marianne. _Work hard now, the results will be worth it._

She was always right, wasn’t she?

Bringing her hand to his mouth, he presses a soft kiss to it. Behind her, the sun begins to peek in-between the gap of the curtains on his window, highlighting her hair.

“For a new dawn.” Claude echos the words he’d spoken to her months ago, when they’d reunited after her long absence.

And Byleth’s response is a smile that makes Claude, a man of two countries, finally feel like he’s found a place to call home.

**Author's Note:**

> Lorenz got no sleep that night and is torn between the desire to complain at length to Claude about it because wow how RUDE and UNCOUTH and his noble good breeding in which one does not bring up the fact that one heard the duke loudly banging one's former teacher because that is hardly appropriate tea time conversation.
> 
> Anyway, me, some time ago: I will write a short pwp for the Claudeleth NSFW week  
> My brain: LOL you fool, you buffon, you absolute eejit, why are you lying to yourself
> 
> Also, I am sporadically on Twitter [@flowerfuls](https://twitter.com/flowerfuls) if you'd like to say hello.


End file.
